Unfair
by FallingStarXan
Summary: The Doctor is transported back to the Valiant from SoD, and has to do some quick thinking to stop the universe from collapsing as usual, and NOT get aged. Doctor's POV. Now with some fluff and angst, but mostly hectic rapid-fire adventure.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Read this in your head with Ten's voice. And then, of course, please review.**

Everything was so _monstrously_ unfair.

So maybe it wasn't a _very_ good excuse, that the Doctor standing right in front of all of you just got swapped somehow through time and space (without any of you really noticing it) for _me_, who _also_ happens to be the Doctor, but just a later version (not even _regenerated_-later, but just a bit more progressed in my own personal time-stream), and that somehow makes this whole thing completely and utterly _unfair_. So maybe that wasn't _exactly_ something the Master was going to buy (or honestly care about).

So what? I was mad. Why was I mad, you ask? Because I was in the middle of my _sentence_, that's why! I was standing there, chatting with an old friend on Vega Altair, when suddenly the sky turns into a ceiling and the nice refreshing drink I'm reaching for turns into a metal sphere with spiky bits on, and the old friend turns into an 'old friend,' and please _note well_ those curly sarcasm marks around those two words because they are as sure as Skarro not going _anywhere _anytime soon.

Yeah, I was a little bit upset. People always say that I'm a bit barmy, but I don't really get that. I mean, doesn't it just get boring when everyone always acts the way people expect them to? What's the point of being a living organism then? You never see a rock do anything particularly startling, or kooky, or eccentric, nor a table, a cloud nor anything like that *****unless you are me*** **because they're _inanimate_, for Time's sake! A little spontaneity is a good, living thing.

You _can_ have too much of a good thing, though. Especially when it comes to the Hartle-Hawking State and ekpyrotic interactions. DO NOT overdose on those. (And whatever neurochemicals were possessing me right then, when I found myself standing once more on the _Valiant_. Don't overdose on those, either.) But do not fool around with branes, because all you'll get is dead. And the universe will explode; that too. Don't do it. I _mean_ it.

That was basically what I started yelling the nanosecond I realized what was going on. I do happen to know that I have a propensity for turbo-talking, but this was abnormal even for me. I was going off on everyone like I'd just come into my room and found it trashed, with all my favorite books ripped up and beer cans on the floor or something. I _exploded_. I went _nova_.

Well, maybe I was a little stunned at first. I think the shock was what set me off, because before I could get it into my head that I was in serious danger, the notion came to me that this was all exorbitantly unfair. And when I found myself standing there, with the tip of the laser screwdriver practically poking into my eye, and my 'old friend'... anyway, THERE I WAS, in the middle of something I'd _already done_, something I'd already had to _deal_ _with_ for a whole _year_, and I had absolutely no patience for that. And I had been rudely interrupted in the middle of my sentence. I think we went over that bit already, but it was very important to me right then.

So first I finished my sentence. "... teaching their offspring to put sponges over their noses to feed, which actually isn't an inherited behavior at all, but an example of fourth degree learning and highly sophisticated communication." (I was referring to bottlenose dolphins, by the way, who have a delightfully complex civilization and rank about fifth on my favorite species list).

I realized everyone was staring at me as if I'd gone stark raving mad (unfair!), with all due respect to present company, of course. Present company was making themselves very obvious, too. I think I spluttered out something along the lines of, "Is this some kind of sadistic _joke?_" before this one particular Toclafane dive-bombed me.

Yes, that did happen. Yes, it hadn't happened in the old timeline. It startled me severely, and, when startled, I tend to forget myself. In the next conscious moment I had, the thing had exploded and was smoking at my feet in a sad little half-molten mass. I had my sonic screwdriver out and it was pointed at the spot where the sphere had been. It was one of those amazing lightning-reflex moments that one can only fantasize about having twice, or even once. I'd also forgotten that I didn't _ever_ use my sonic screwdriver to blow up evil flying robots. Which goes to show that you should Never Interrupt Me In The Middle Of A Sentence.

"What the _HELL_ is going on?" I half-screeched. "WHY AM I HERE AGAIN?"

They all kept staring at me. I was fuming. "_Right in the middle of my bloody sentence you decide to fudge around with sub-branal frequencies and now here I am in this place and what's going on and why am I yelling? I don't even know!_" Then I subsided a little, and took in the surroundings. There were Martha gawping at me like a little goldfish (I don't blame her), and other people, too, who didn't really matter right then, and Jack was lying on the floor, temporarily deceased, and Lucy Saxon with this blank look on her face like she'd seen this kind of outburst before (probably she had), and then _him._

His curiosity was probably the one thing that kept me from being blasted. And maybe the fact that I'd just shot one of his hench-balls (that came out a lot wronger than I mean it to) out of the air. I was turning on the spot, shaking my head and espousing variants on the theme of denial, and he was just _looking_ at me, trying desperately to figure out what my game was. I didn't have one. We'd already gone through all this before, and I'd woken up on the wrong side of bed or something, so I wasn't in the mood to play along and wait a _year_ to get out of this place. All this time I was thinking, _How is this possible? What did this? _but not like that, because it was all equations and facts and models trying to explain everything.

When the undeniable fact of my situation got through to me (I was hoping a bit that maybe this would all turn out to be an hallucination or a temporal glitch of some kind, and end as suddenly as it came), I fell back on an old staple of mine: the authoritative but urgent scan. You can literally get away with _anything_ in the right crowd if you pull out a device and start waving it in the air, because no one really wants to be left wondering whether the invisible demons you're looking for are still there or not. No one argues. The screwdriver came up and the light on the end came on, and I started to dash about the place, not sure of what I was doing but _damn _sure that if I didn't find something to do that looked important, I was going to be turned into an old geezer again.

"Doctor," said my arch-nemesis.

"Shut up. I'm in the middle of something," my mouth said. I still do not know why I am not dead for that one.

Perhaps it was shock. "Yeah, well... so was I..." the Master said slowly. "Do you... _mind_...?"

I retorted something along the lines of this: "Yes, I do, because right now the only really important thing is the fact that somehow the main-sequence universe has collided with a Time-Locked shadow plane that I hoped _never_ to see again, and so I think that something very, very cosmic is about to happen and I mean that in a _bad_ way, because it might just kill us all and set off a rapid ekpyrotic expansion that will collapse the fabric of the universe. _So have some patience_, why don't you!"

Here's why I'm used to saying things like that: no one ever understands me. Well, that's not something to hope for with another Time Lord. I'll give him all due credit; he got it instantly, and plucked out the really big words in that sentence of mine.

"_Main-sequence _universe? Time-Locked _shadow plane?_"

"Very... clever... of you..." I was trying to get a reading off the spot I'd appeared in. Sure enough, the quantum fluctuations were off the charts.

"Are you trying to say that...?" the Master began carefully.

"Ooh, yeah, sorry to burst your bubble. I meant that literally, by the way. That seems to be precisely what I've just done... and it's going to get a whole lot worse..."

"I'm supposed to _care_ about that?"

"Er. Yes. Unless you like being swallowed up in a fractal singularity. Well, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. _I_ certainly don't know what you do in your spare time, so maybe you _wouldn't_ mind it. Hard to tell."

I find it hard to imagine what it could have been like inside his mind. One second, he's about to release doom upon the Earth, and the next he's being knocked about by my rushing back and forth, while he'd being told that his world isn't real and it's about to _im_- and/or _ex_plode.

"I see. Isn't it odd that right when I have you beat, you reveal that the universe is about to blow up? Convenient, you might say?"

_Has me beat... he has no idea how wrong he is. _"Oh? Is it? Funny thing..."

He cracked. It's a specialty of his. "HAVE YOU LOST YOUR BLOODY MIND?" he screamed. I opened my mouth to snark back, and the Master gave me a look of ultimate death and added, "If you say anything like 'Well, you're one to talk' I will _turn you into a cricket_!"

"Like Tithonous," I pointed out. "Ancient Greek story. Dawn made Tithonous immortal but forgot to ask for eternal youth, so he ended up aging so much he turned into a grasshopper. Was that what you were planning?"

"What," he began.

"Turning me into an old man, and then Gollum or whatever, was cricket the next stage? 'Cause you could just skip to that part. Actually, if you're going to use that thing on me, I'd rather you make me into that little creepy old thing than just plain old, because that was actually kind of fun... I can't _believe_ I just said that... Although, with the universe about to collapse, it might not last as long as before. Probably not a year, at any rate. Five minutes, maybe."

"How did you _know_-" I detected hysteria. He had really thought his plan was Doctor-proof. Poor guy.

"Because I'm NOT the same person who was standing here about twenty-eight seconds ago, I'm... _later_ than that one! I come after! Look, I'm not even wearing the same clothesnevermindIam..." I tried to remember what I had worn that day. Oh, that brown suit... and here I am, in the brown suit... But WAIT! "_LOOOook at my tie!_" I hooted triumphantly. "Oh, god, that sounded... simian. Must be coming down with something. But look! It's _definitely _not the same color!"

"Ohhh, I see," he nodded, tapping his laser screwdriver to his lips and looking generally like he did _not_ see at _all_ in _any_ way. "So... let me just review where we're at... you want me to, what? Stop my attack on _poor, defenseless_ Earth and help you save the world? Because your _tie_ changed _colors?_"

"Does it do that, normally?" I asked. "I mean, just to make sure. It's a normal tie, you know. 100% cotton. Made of pure fabric. Here, smell it if you like. Totally normal cotton... maybe a bit of polyester... yeah, make that 75% cotton."

"Get that... get your tie out of my face! I'm not _smelling_ it... I'd rather _strangle_ you with it! Just... stop... ruining... my... _fun_!"

"But... come on! It's seriously not the same thing! At all! You can see that! Smell it! Whatever! I was replaced by... well, me, but a more _updated_ me. And that's a bad thing, because I shouldn't be here! You can't ignore that! Ties don't change color on their own!"

"Uh, Doctor?" asked Jack Harkness. He'd decided to join the conversation, I suppose. Maybe he would have, earlier, but he was dead then. "This coming from a man who used to have big ears and a buzz cut? Maybe not the most unbelievable-"

"But it's not a _Time Lord_ tie! It doesn't _regenerate!_ Come on, work with me!"

"Well, your hair's looking a bit different," Jack offered. "It was kind of going _this_ way" (he gestured) "before, and now it's going _this_ way" (he gestured again, in a slightly different direction). "Still looks great, though." He gave me a thumbs-up. Only Captain Jack can make such an innocent gesture seem suggestive.

"Thanks, but please don't _flirt_," I told him. "I'm trying to stop the end of the universe here."

"Yes," interjected the Master. "Er. Please... don't flirt with him. That's just not... not good..."

We _all _looked at him.

"Oh, _thanks_," I said, "I never knew you cared."

"Don't look at me like that," the Master said indignantly. He actually seemed defensive. Him, defensive because I'm acting absolutely out of my mind. Fancy that! I should have done this ages ago.

"All right, so I have to find some way to fix this... think, Doctor, think! Argh!"

Martha suddenly unstuck herself. "Oh! Oh! You could... find a way of switching back with your other self, the one that's supposed to be here."

"But how am I supposed to... there's no way I could... and how did this _happen_ in the first place? It makes no sense!"

"Were you traveling through any temporal rift-y things?" Jack posited. "That's usually a good way to get thrown out of your time stream."

"I was standing in a park on Vega Altair, chatting about dolphins," I pointed out. "Not really very rift-y, no. Unless... maybe it was the _drink_..."

"Does _anyone_ care that I'm about to _conquer your planet?_" yelled the Master.

"He's not, is he?" asked Martha, who had good reason to be concerned over this. "I thought you'd stop him."

"Oh, I will, don't worry. I'm still around, aren't I? I would know." I blurted this out without thinking, and then stuffed my fist in my mouth. "I probably shouldn't have told you that," I said through my knuckles. "But I suppose time can't get more tangled right now."

"So you're from the future and you're saying that you've already stopped me?"

"Noooo... no... not really... okay, yes. Essentially. So maybe you could help out a bit? Seeing as you _know_ that trying to kill me or enslave me or otherwise stop me isn't really going to... er... stop me?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." he muttered, looked crestfallen. "I can't turn you old?"

"Please refrain from doing so," I agreed. "It probably won't help the situation."

"But... I _want_ to! And... and... " He didn't need anything other reason, as it turned out. That was good enough for him to point the laser screwdriver in my direction.

"NO!" I shouted. "No! No, you've got the _wrong_ Doctor! Well, not really, but... yes really! I've... I've got temporal extraterritoriality, me! Stop! Oh sh-"


	2. Chapter 2

Some time passed.

And then I woke up again. It seemed to be only seconds later. Once more everyone was staring at me, only I was lying on the floor, looking up at them. I focused on the Master, and pointed accusingly at the laser screwdriver in his hand.

"You _used_ _that_ on _me_..." My voice was rising with hysterical shock.

"Hold on a tic. You've got _what_? Tem-_por_-al _ex_-tra-_terr_-i-tor-i-_al_-i-ty?" He pronounced it very, very slowly. "What's _that?_"

"_You used that thing on me...!_" My eyes must have been popping out of their sockets. "I told you not to-"

"Well if you're not going to be cooperative-"

"Co_op_erative?" I yelled. "You're the one who isn't being cooperative! You don't even check to see if the whole universe is coming apart at the edges before you zap somebody!"

"Yeah, but I brought you back. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea-" He directed the weapon at me and right about there I'd had enough. I stood up, and stomped over to the Master, relishing the height difference between us.

"_You_," I commanded, putting as much mental force behind my words as a ten-ton ball swinging at the end of a five hundred meter chain. "Give Me That. _**NOW**_."

The Master froze, and his face went white. I hadn't realized how weak his psychic defenses would be, but he hadn't expected me to strike out like that, because I _never_ did. He didn't know what I was capable of, and honestly neither did I. Without any time to prepare, I'd just hit him with absolutely everything I had, and that probably was a little too much. What I'd done must have been like the brain version of bashing a frying pan into his funny bone.

I snatched the laser screwdriver out of his hand, and he didn't stop me, but stumbled back and slid down a wall. "Ah. Isomorphic lock," I said. "But then, I knew that already, because you told me. So where were we? Oh, that's right, he asked me a question."

It was hard to explain, so I paused for a moment. How do you convey that feeling you get when you end up in the middle of a set series of events, and you _know _that no one should be interacting with you because that's Not The Way Things Are Supposed To Go Down and so you're just trying to hurry things along, eg., 'Go _on_, Henry, stop gawping at me and get those men to Agincourt already! What? Why are you looking at me like that? You've got history to make!' So you don't act as careful, or maybe you act more careful, but you feel so detached from everything. Crossing into established events gives me this awful itchy crawly feeling all over, like I was that rhinoceros from the Just So story where he gets sand in his skin. Especially over my scalp.

"Oh, so _that's_ why you're always mussing up your hair!" exclaimed Martha. "No wonder!"

"Did I say all that out loud?" I wondered to myself.

Martha nodded. "All of it." Then she did something very Martha Jones-y: She carefully approached the Master, pushing a quietly hysterical Lucy Saxon out of the way, and waved a hand in front of the man's blank eyes. "He's not moving... what did you _do_, Doctor? What's happened to him?"

"Mental block... psychic stun... Aw, I don't know, call it brain freeze. Like when you eat too much ice cream and your head goes all, you know, numb."

Jack winced. "Seems a little harsh, even for him, don't you think?" Everyone else in the room grimaced a bit as well, and there were a couple of sympathetic nods. A few other people wore sadistic smiles - they thought it was not really harsh enough, but would have to do for now.

"When does he thaw out, then?" asked Martha apprehensively. "It's not permanent, is it?"

"Couldn't tell, wouldn't care," I said shortly. "Didja hear that, Master?" I twirled a finger around his face, accentuating my words. "I don't care one _whit_ about you right now and _what_ do you think you're doing over there?"

The man in the black uniform saluted but hefted his gun and pointed it at me. "Sorry, sir, but I've got not choice, sir. Step aside, sir."

"What d'you mean you've got no choice? And I'm not a _sir_, I'm the Doctor, and if you're going to call me sir you can't go on and follow it up by waving a gun at me, that's just bad form-"

"No, sir, Doctor, sir, but I'm not going to miss this chance to rid the world of another Hitler or Stalin or Genghis Khan or-" He pulled back the catch and took aim.

"_NO!_" I shouted, spreading my arms out and leaping backwards to stand over the Master. "Don't you _dare_ try!"

"Get out of the way, man..."

I grabbed the muzzle of the gun and steadied it right in front of my left heart. "You want to shoot him," I said, looking the soldier in the eye, "You're going to have to shoot me first."

The tiniest of sounds from behind me, and I thought, _You heard that, didn't you? And it wouldn't ever make a difference, no matter what I do, but now you know, you heard me say it, so go ahead and think that over, 'cos you know it's true._

The soldier was trembling but he said fiercely, "If that's what you want, then all right, I _will_-"

"NO! No, you _can't!_" shrieked Martha. "You can't kill him, he's the Doctor!" She covered her mouth and gasped slightly behind her hands.

"Why? What's that supposed to mean? Why can't I kill the Doctor?"

"Because he's all you've got!" Martha said angrily. "Because he's a better man than all of you and if there's anyone who can stop the Master, it's him! And he's saved your lives I don't know how many times before and you never even knew it was him! He's-"

"Ah, ah, ah," I interrupted (I had a hunch how long that could go on), "Time for that later, Martha, save it for when you need it... Now, you with the gun, are you planning to back off or am I going to have to go all angry on you, 'cos I didn't exactly wake up on the right side of bed this morning and I've got a little wee itch in my larynx," I cleared my throat, "hm-_hrm_ kind of makes me want to start _shouting_ at people but I don't want to do that, 'cos that's rude. So why don't you put that thing away?"

He stubborn-faced me for a bit longer.

"Have you ever felt that, where you bite too much off a popsicle and your head gets all numb, except it isn't numb 'cos it really, _really _hurts?" I asked, offhand. "Know what that's like, do you?"

The gun moved off my chest and the man shuffled back. "NoIdon'tsir." Then he clamped his mouth shut.

So with one immediate problem out of the way, it would be best to start focusing on the others. "All righty then," I declared. "Someone think of something. Get those neurons moving. What happened?"

"So you weren't in your TARDIS?" Jack confirmed. He looked almost comfortable with this whole situation, He'd be comfortable with anything, though, that's just who he is.

"Nope. TARDIS wasn't even close to where I was standing."

"You can't travel through time without your TARDIS, can you? I mean, unless you _can_..."

Happy thoughts filled my head in which I am surrounded by a ring of androgynous robotic warriors pointing stasers at me and the leader shouts _FIRE_ but hey, hey, vworp, vworp, where'd he go? Ah, that would be brilliant, wouldn't it...?

"Uh, no. I can't."

"Shame."

"Yeah." I shook myself. "But let's move on from that, shall we, we're not getting anything done. We don't have to worry about _him_ anymore, but there's still the-"

"Don't we?" said the Master from behind me.

Spoke too soon.

I took three giant steps as far from the wall as possible. "Aw, no, tell me then. Why don't we?" Unfortunately I was becoming sarcastic. I was thinking something along the lines of, _Well I have his screwdriver_, but that's unfortunately not a complete sentence. I can't beat Harold Saxon at sarcasm. I should have known that his brain wouldn't stay frozen for long, but I had hoped for a little more time.

The Master smiled, and for a moment he looked quite carefree for a mass murderer. I knew I was going to be punished severely for the brain-freeze-thing. "Because I've got a lot of other little friends who do so like to have a laugh, and they would very much enjoy meeting you." He snapped his fingers, and then, rising up out of black ripples of smoke and stars: sphere after sphere, emerging from rifts in space with their spikes extended, bobbing gently around us.

"Who's _the_-ere?" they sang. Oh, the drama. I muttered something about copyright infringement. That man and his fancies!

"The _Doctor_ is," said the Master in a fatherly way. "See him?"

"You shoulda let me shoot him," whispered the guard.

"Er. Well, maybe I should have... But don't try anything now. I mean it, they'll kill you. Gun away. Now."

"Where are they coming from?" Martha said, horrified.

I readied my voice box to answer, but didn't get past the first phoneme... suddenly my brain was working, _really_ working, and I knew that I had my answer. "Tell me," I shouted. "Where did you hide all the Toclafane before they attacked Earth? Tell me _now!_"

"Why should I?" he said mockingly. The idiot didn't realize why I was asking - he thought I was scared of _him_, and the truth was anything but. I was scared _for _him.

"Those tears, those rips in space they were hiding in! Where are they? Did you just shove everything in wherever you could, like packing a suitcase? Did you? You moron, don't you realize, this timeline isn't stable! You know that, you know what those Toclafane are, and so do I! You know the paradox this is creating, and you know what happens if you-"

He ran up and grabbed my 75% cotton non-Time-Lord tie, cutting me off. "_How do you know what they are?_" he hissed. "_How did you find out?_"

"BECAUSE," I screamed, "I'M! FROM! THE! _FUTURE!_" Then I glanced at the guard. "See, I meant it about the yelling," I whispered, friendly-like. "And now my throat hurts."

The Master finally looked like he believed me. He stared at the tie in his fist. His eyes seemed to unfocus and he said, "But if you're from the future, that means that you survived the-"

"Survived this _stunt_ of yours, yes!"

"But then... then that means the paradox machine stopped working..."

"The repurposed TARDIS, yeah! I... I de-repurposed it!"

"But then..."

"Yes, _then!_ Then the fabric of space and time folds over the events that take place here and created a Time Locked shadow plane while the main universe continues on a different course while this one stays frozen in the Void but if _I'm_ here from the real timeline that means that my universe just collided with this one and the resulting interactions between all the incongruities of the whole particle spectrum will literally rip the two universes apart and HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO _DRUM_ THAT INTO YOUR! FAT! HEAD!"

"Was that a _pun?_" he asked distractedly.

"GAAHHH!"

"No need to get upset, Doctor."

"Listen to me," I coughed. "Just listen to me for _once in your life_, Master, for bloody, _bloody,_ _once!_" I shoved him off me and then advanced on him, in a sort of menacing way (or, so I hoped). "I think what happened is that _you_ ripped this world open a bit too far and didn't expect the temporal coordinates to jump around because you can't see time the way I can, even if you are a Time Lord, 'cos all you hear is the drums! I think you thought this world would be one place and it isn't!"

"You mean it's somewhere else?" "Well, _where else do you think would it be, if it isn't here?_"

"Oh, come on. Do you see any _terrible rips _in space and time?" He made a face at me. "_Do_ you?"

"Hm." I spun a little on my heels, pointing at the rifts the Toclafane had flown out of. "Not sure, can't tell. Ooh, maybe those funny rippy thingies _all around my head_?"

"Yeah, but I can close them up whenever I like," he said carelessly.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked. "Try."

His face fell ever so slightly. "You've got the laser, I can't-"

I tapped the Master's screwdriver against my leg, in a sort of familiar way. I obviously did that on purpose, because I'm waging psychological warfare, not because of any subconscious influence or because the opportunity to make a Reference was just too good to pass up. I smiled to show that I knew I was doing it. "So you mean this one, here?" I tossed it up and caught it. "This laser screwdriver here... well, clearly I can't try to close the rift with it, because you've got an isomorphic lock on it, so I suppose that leaves me no choice but to... catch!"

He did, and his face was priceless.

"Are you insane, Doctor?" Jack hissed. "You just got that thing away from him and now you're giving it back? You nuts?"

"No, but he is," I said. "It's too bad for us, isn't it? I figure any _insane_ man who's just been rearmed by his not insane archenemy would definitely use his weapon to attack said archenemy. Don't you agree, Master?"

"You're bluffing," he said uncertainly.

"Ah, you're right, so I am. Bluffing. Haven't got a thing up my sleeve... _well_, except for the end of the universe. Don't know if that counts. Does that count?"

The Master's eyes narrowed.

"Close the rifts," I said. "Close them. Go on. You said you could. Show me."

Slowly he lifted the screwdriver.

"That's it... good... show me I'm wrong..." I didn't keep my eyes off his. "Show I'm just bluffing... 'cos you know, if I am, I'm out of luck then... you beat me, Master, you beat me... and I'm all yours...you can do what you like with me, 'cos you've won..." I raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you?"

The Master directed the screwdriver at the closest rift, but kept on staring at me. The light at the end switched on, and there was a painfully high whine.

And then it stopped. The Master looked at his screwdriver, and shook it. Then he frowned and raised the setting, pointed it at the crack in space again, and the whine was louder. The edges of the crack rippled, and seemed to expand rather than contract. The Master shied away from it. "You broke the damn thing!" he accused me. "You broke it!"

"Oh? Really? If I did, I must have done it without even noticing. How odd. Well, that's easy to prove." I tapped my chest. "Turn me old. Your screwdriver still works, it just won't work against those rifts. It'll work on me. Shoot me, I don't care. I'll be the guinea pig. C'mon."

For a split second there was a reflection of something terrible in his eyes, and I thought he was going to do it, but instead he flung his arm out and hit a bobbing Toclafane with a bolt of energy. The sphere emitted a spray of sparks and started to drift around the room drunkenly before accidentally embedding itself in the wall and powering down.

"All right, that works too," I said, shrugging. I was a little surprised he hadn't killed the creature.

As if he'd read my thoughts, the Master said, "I wouldn't want to go turning them against me, would I? I'm not that stupid."

"Yeah, not _that_ stupid," I agreed. "_Nearly _that stupid, though..."

He snarled and aimed the screwdriver with both hands at the rift. The sound it made was deafening. "Why won't they go away?" he growled. "Why won't they obey me? Close up, you stupid thing!"

It was doing the opposite. The black rip was expanding and putting out shoots every which way.

"That's enough," I said. "That's enough, it won't help! It's making it worse; can't you understand? You're _not_ an idiot, come on. Listen to me."

The Master slammed the heel of his hand against the end of the screwdriver, and the light turned yellow-orange and began to flicker like flame. "Obey... me..."

"Stop," I ordered. "Stop now, it's getting too dangerous... _stop!_"

And finally he listened, but it was too late. With a shredding noise, the rifts tore their way towards him and the Master vanished into the blackness with a scream.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry about the wait! I know this was suspenseful! **

The man had probably got himself killed through his own stubbornness and gross stupidity. And the universe would no doubt be a lot safer without him. My favorite planet, Earth, would be a lot safer.

So, what did I do?

Oh, _come on_, what do you _think?_

I dove for the rift, sonic screwdriver alight, and then heard a loud _crack_. There was this one second where I swear my skin was burning off of my flesh from the cold, and then I was rolling out (and hitting my head on the floor, so, _ouch_), and when the numbness around my right arm started to fade I thought, _Oh, good, I got him_.

There was this moment of absolute stillness, and my life basically boiled down into a little trio of triads: Face, floor, ow. End, universe, again. Master, idiot, _alive_.

"Let me up," said item seven in a rather small voice.

The request took its time in my cognitive processing. I paused, pondering over triad number one. "What," I said.

"Leggo'fme."

I lifted my arm. "Be my guest." After I said that I think he rolled away, and I heard him stand up. Then more footsteps thumping towards me, and someone rolled me onto my back. It was Martha.

"Oh my god, your skin is _freezing_," she said, horrified. "Are you all right, Doctor? Come on, say you're all right!" "I'm all right," I told her.

"Was that a lie?" asked Jack, coming up behind Martha.

"It could have been," I admitted blearily. I'd taken the worst part of the radiation from the interdimensional vortex, but it was slowly leaking out of me. Still, I wasn't sure how long that could take, or how much time we had left. I stared up at the rifts and thought, _I know this. How do I know this?_

"Cracks in time," I mumbled. "All the cracks in time..." Because, you understand, sometimes my memory works like that. I didn't know what I was saying, what I meant, but there was a feeling in the back of my head that this was something I should know... or should have known, once...

"All right, you two. Step away from him. He needs space."

The memory burst like a soap bubble.

"Look, I'm trying to help here..."

"_Are you serious?_" Martha shouted. "Trying to _help_ him_?_ Do you think I'm that much of a fool?"

"No," said the Master. "I'm not trying to help _him_. I'm trying to help _myself_. Right now that means keeping him alive."

"Finally he gets it," I said to the ceiling. "Clever boy."

Martha was pushed aside, and the Master grabbed my shoulders. "Okay, then. You want to help get rid of these things?" He pointed at the cracks.

I nodded.

"Good. Just have to clear up the radioactive effects." He held up the laser screwdriver and twisted the setting rings.

"Wait... wait..." I slurred. "What are you going to- NONONONONO!" The Master pushed my head back down and jabbed the end of the laser screwdriver into my chest.

I screamed.

"Don't be a baby," he said, putting the screwdriver away. "Get up."

As my vision cleared, I saw that I was now lying in a ring of sparkling dust that had been ejected from my body seconds earlier. So the way that works is, a polarized electric current, if it's strong enough, can knock radioactive isotopes out of certain types of cells, like mine. The trouble is, it isn't very pleasant.

"Little help?" I pleaded, holding out a hand.

"What, you're not going to thank me for that?"

"Thank you," I said. "Now help me up."

"Magic word."

"Please?"

"No. Pick your own self up."

I stretched the arm out towards him even more. "What? Do you think I have cooties or something?"

Jack and Martha were the ones who ended up helping me to my feet. The strange sand crunched underfoot. Once standing, I brushed grains off my shoulders, and picked at the crystals that had lodged in my shirt. "God, this stuff is clingy..."

"Don't mess about, Doctor. Just tell me how to get rid of these rifts."

"It's all on my head, too... it's like dandruff, oh, that's _disgusting_. Radioactive dandruff..." The Master impatiently swiped his hand through my hair. "All right, it's gone. Stop wasting my time. How do we close these things?"

"Well, I suppose the best way to start would be to send me back to where I was and then bring my old self back here." I pointed at my neck. "You know, the one with the other tie."

"Fine. Good. I'd love to. How do we do that?"

I scratched the back of my head. "I'm not really sure."

The man gritted his teeth. "Well, how'd you _get_ here?" "Oh, lord, this is just keeping on going around and around in circles, isn't it?" I rubbed my eyes and then clasped my hands together. "Look, I don't know. We went through this already."

"Twice," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah, what he said. Now, again, I _think_ it probably has something to do with the Toclafane hiding in the rifts... it must have opened a tunnel through to this dimension..."

The Master folded his arms. "What, so it's my fault?"

"Inadvertently, I suppose. Don't act so innocent. You _were_ the one about to decimate the planet's population."

He looked offended. "Who said I was?" Like he could fool me on that. "I _was_ there, you know."

"Maybe I was just going to... enslave them all and make them work ten hours a day... with weekends and sick days off?" he suggested innocently.

"Right, well, you did that too. Not with the days off, though." "I never said I was going to kill everyone..." He turned around and then pointed. "I bet it was _her_ idea."

Lucy Saxon jerked back. "Who, _me?_"

"Yeah, you probably convinced me to do it with your womanly wiles..."

"Why would I do that?" she exclaimed.

"Why else would you marry me?" said the Master smugly. He tapped his nose. "See, I'm cleverer than that."

"Oh, shut up," I said. "Of course it was your idea. Anyway, we... oh!" My eyes went wide. "Ideas! Ideas are good! Waitwaitwait! Shush!" I held out my hands in a _stop everything_ gesture. Then, slowly, I raised a finger. "Ahhhh... _Idea!_" I slapped my hands together. "Now, I need access to the Archangel network. Right this second. Hook up everything, all the mind control feeds you've got. The whole thing, all around the Earth. And then..." Everything fell into place. It was genius. "I need your sound system."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: And now, another chapter! So soon? That's right! It is! Also, the mood of this story is really changing. It started off as just a big fat laugh but now it's getting a little more serious. Well, Doctor Who does that all the time. Please review! By the way, do not own.**

"You need my _what?_"

"Sound system! I know you've got one! And all those microphones from the press, I need them too. I've got to have every single person on the planet to be thinking the exact same thing and that thought is going to be _shut it up!_ Get it?"

"No," said Martha slowly, and beside her Jack shook his head.

"_Yes..._" the Master breathed. I knew he'd understand. "Yes, of _course!_ Some really horrible, awful noise blowing everyone's ears out and all they can think of it to turn it off... And the psychic network amplifies the signal and then that translates into raw energy and the energy can _shut up_ the rifts... oh, you're _good_. You're _very_ good... why didn't I ever _think_ of that? Using the network like that... I could have done _anything!_"

"Well, thank you," I said, surprised. "I'm flattered. You know, I rather thought it was quite clever last time, too, and I didn't really hear much from you then."

He tilted his head to one side. "Last time?"

"Oh, look at me rambling on," I said hurriedly. "Wasting our precious time. Better get started with this plan of mine, before things get really bad. Eh? Eh? Good plan? Okay, now, all you reporters, I need your microphones and those speakers and cords and all that wiry stuff. Just put it all a big pile over there, but make sure not to get anything tangled. I don't want to have to untie some great big knot while the world's falling to pieces. Ooh, and put your cell phones in too, if they've got a 4G network."

"What's a 4G network?" someone said.

I thought hard, then slapped my forehead. "Oh, no, you don't have smartphones yet, do you? It's only two thousand and... seven? Eight? Is it? Yeah? Okay. Never mind." I sighed. Keeping track of technology in the early twenty-first century is really impossible. It's not like the other times on Earth, when it's like, _wheel, check. Steel, check. Gasoline, check. Nuclear weaponry... not yet, thank god_."Just put in the stuff I mentioned before."

One by one the reporters unstuck themselves. First they looked at one another, a bit confused, then began to pick up equipment. The noise level in the room began to rise, so I grabbed a microphone stand and banged on the wall. "OI! LISTEN UP!"

The Toclafane that was embedded in the wall became unstuck, fell, and made a sad little whine.

I took a breath. "You, Jack, give me your vortex manipulator. Once the mental energy from the planet starts getting channeled up here we won't have much time before the ship gets torn apart, so we need _that_ to get everyone out of here. Anyone who's not within range of the paradox machine - that's my TARDIS, by the way, and it's on this ship, so that means anyone on the Valiant - anyone still here won't get put back where they're supposed to be, and the timeline won't start over for you. And since the ship's going to explode, that means you die."

I took the device from Jack, threw it across the floor, and pointed my sonic at it. A purple disk of light appeared around it and started to expand. "That's a transport plate; if you all get inside the light, I'll be able to send you down to the surface. Oh, yeah, and make sure not to touch any of the rifts. Be careful!" I shouted, grabbing a young woman by the arm and pulling her back. In the spot where she had been standing, a crack of dark light appeared. "These things aren't just growing, they're _forming_. Stay out of any patches of air that feel cold to you. I don't care if you're next to the AC or something, just get away from the chill. That's the warning for that a rift's being created."

Everyone sort of shuffled around to get to a warmer spot.

"Master?" I said. He perked up (_Weird, _I thought). "Yes?"

"How many people are on this ship?"

"Oh, about fifty," he said, waving a hand. "It's mostly automated."

"Okay, so get them all up here. All hands to the bridge, something like that. And send me the access to the Archangel network. I don't want to have to hack it on my own; that'll take too much time."

The Master appeared strangely disappointed. "That's it?"

"That's what?"

"You just want me to get everyone up here? That's all you need me to do?"

I still didn't really understand. "That's about it for now. Why?"

"Nothing. Nothing." He waved to the floating Toclafane. "Okay, all of you. Go out there and fetch anybody who's on the ship. Bring them up here, to the bridge."

"Yes, Master," chorused the Toclafane, and they drifted away. It suddenly occurred to me that they seemed rather... smug. Eager and smug.

Suddenly I realized what the Master had to be thinking right now. He didn't need me anymore. I'd thought of the clever plan, and that was enough. Of all the people here, there was exactly one person who could die and leave the timelines intact.

That person was me.

"And don't kill any of them!" the Master shouted, before the creatures could leave. "You have to bring everyone back alive... and _healthy_!"

The spheres all stopped, and so did I. You could really see all of them trying to work out a loophole.

"Don't touch any of them! Or use any weapons on them! If they don't come, just... tell them they'll die if they don't! It's true, anyway. Just... don't attack them."

All the Toclafane (though I don't know how they managed it) looked very, very sulky. If they didn't listen... But to my relief they flew out into the rest of the ship without making much fuss. As I sat down to link up all the electronics I began to wonder exactly how much of the devastation on Earth was the fault of the Toclafane, alone. It had been the Master who created them, but still... they were so malevolent that maybe some of what had happened hadn't really been his decision. Oh, he was still responsible for it, but perhaps not fully... _aware_... of it?

Then I mentally shook my head. No. That couldn't excuse anything. People believed he was insane, therefore didn't care about people's feelings. But that wasn't really true - the man was a sadist. He enjoyed the _pain_ as much as the Toclafane did, and he'd made them to be like that... so why was he helping? Just out of self-interest? The more I thought about, the more worried I felt. The longer he acted nice, the worse his plan. Take running for Prime Minister. That must have been a long time he'd spent on Earth, just biding his time... oh, he was _very_ good at that...

... and then I realized he was _standing right behind me_. "What are you doing?" he asked cordially. "Hooking up the sound systems? Can I help?"

I did not look frightened or startled in any way. It takes practice, but I can cover all that up really easily.

"Sorry, did I startle you?"

I don't know how he always sees through it.

_He's actually apologizing_, I thought. _That probably means he's probably going to kill me very, very slowly in a humiliating way_. _And he's sort of smiling. That's bad. That's really bad_.

I am not a paranoid person. Just putting that out there. Until recently I was very carefree and didn't worry much about dying. But now...

The Master sat down next to me and tapped his knee. "You need the access to the Archangel network?"

"Yeah. Get it on that computer over there. I need to connect the broadcast feed on the mikes to the first circle of separation in the matrix." _And go away,_ I thought ungratefully._ Stop being nice._ "That's what, a radius of ten miles? Seventeen nodes in each hotspot?"

"How the heck do you know how many nodes I've got?"

I pushed my glasses back up my nose. "I can't tell you that. Precaution. Sorry. But you'll find out." In fact, the chances of him having worked out what I meant were very high. But I wasn't risking it if he hadn't.

And then, ten seconds later, there he was again. "It's done," he informed me. "It's all set up and everything. Look, here's the power cord. Just connect the-" I stared at him suspiciously. "Oh, at your urging, I truly must," I said. "No, I'll do it myself, thank you."

He had this weird look on his face. "I like the glasses," he said. "They look clever."

There I'd had enough. It was just too unnerving. "What are you _doing?_" I hissed, pulling the glasses off and stuffing them in my pocket. "What the _hell's_ got into you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Oh, please. "You think I'm falling for that? You think I'd believe that suddenly, you'd just be all pleasant because I pulled you out of that rift? I'm not _that_ naive. I know you think I am, because _I'm_ nice to _you_, but they _really_ aren't the same thing."

He snorted. "You show up and start hollering at me, telling me to shut up every other sentence and then you start getting all sarky with me and go all out in a mental attack to intimidate me and sure, so you stop the guy from killing me but ten seconds later you're all, 'yeah, maybe that was a good idea' and, okay, so you pull me out of that rift but just keep on bossing me around like I was some high-up bloke from UNIT or something and then you call that _nice?_"

I was really surprised how... normal he sounded. "Well, maybe I was a bit tetchy, but that's not _typical_, is it?"

"No, it's really not. And it's not typical that you've been going for a full... oh, has it been twenty minutes already? All that time without once... without even _once_ offering to _help_ me."

"What are you-?"

Now there was anger in his voice. Anger and disgust. "'Cause that's all I _ever_ hear from you now: 'oh, I can help you', 'let me help', like I was _sick_, like I was _diseased_. Like I was just vermin off the streets, and I needed your... _charity_."

I was utterly speechless.

"That's all I ever heard back home, too, 'the Master's sick, the Master's insane, he's a danger to society'... do you think I didn't _know?_ Do you know why I didn't help them, why I let that damn planet burn? Because they trotted me out like a trained animal every time they needed me to do tricks and locked me up when I was done, all sanctimonious. I was _never_ a Time Lord, Doctor. They just gave me a title - _Lord_ Master - to... just to _humor_ me, but they all treated me like an Outsider. I did everything I had to, everything they asked, but oh, that wasn't _good enough_. They made me look into that... into the Schism, and they didn't _have_ to. Just some demented ritual of theirs... Oh, how they loved their rituals! I was _seven years old, _Doctor! _Seven!_ I was a _child_. And then they blame _me_ for what happened! But you... you don't even give me that much, you act as though I'm too much of a savage to know what I became, and now you're going to save me with your infinite wisdom and superior... goodness..." His face was flushed now, and something in his eyes told me that he was in a lot of pain. _The drumming,_ I thought. _It's louder now, isn't it? The more you tell me, the louder it gets... _But I let him finish.

"You're not doing that now, though. You're just... _tolerating_ me." He seemed so confused. "You could never do that before. Just sit next to me and not... cringe, like you were sitting next to a leper. Not try to make me like you and call that help so you didn't have to feel everything that's _wrong_ about me."

Now there was a terrifying clarity in his eyes. "I'm not a sick, weak _savage_, whatever else I am. I can do anything. I can take the Earth for my own and keep you hostage for a year, and I can go out and kiss babies and shake hands. I can get a wife and live in a house and be kind. I can save the Earth and I can destroy it. And it's _my choice_. Because these drums in my head? They don't tell me what to be, Doctor. _I _tell me what to be. And right now I want to be useful, so... use me."

"You never said anything..." I told him quietly. "You should have said."

"Would you have _listened_?" "I thought I just did."

He shut his eyes tight, and pressed a fist to his forehead, breathing hard. Then he slowly nodded. "Yes," he said. "I suppose you did listen."

"But what you said about me, that's not true-"

"_Shut up!_" he snarled. Then his expression softened to simple fear and he knelt in front of me. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. Martha had realized her family was there and was tearfully making sure they were all right. Jack had his eyes on the vortex manipulator. Lucy was staring out of the window.

The Master held me by the shoulders. "_Don't. Talk about it_," he managed to get out. "Don't mention anything I said ever again. I'm going to forget I told you. I'm going to forget I even thought the words in my mind. If you really want to _help me_ then don't _ever_ remind me of what I'm doing right now..." He stood and walked away, holding his hands over his ears, whispering something to himself over and over, something I couldn't hear.

And before I could wrap my head around all of that, Lucy Saxon screamed and pointed out the window.

"What is it?" I exclaimed, bounding to my feet. "What's..."

Outside, the sky had darkened, because a large rift had shredded right through the sun.

"See what I meant," I told everyone, "about the end of the world?"


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Oh my GUARDIANS OF TIME! I can't believe I took so long to update. I feel so awful... that's why I decided to write a little _ahead_ of this point and have a half-chapter done already for what comes after. I promise all of the ten or so people who will read this (self-deprecation YEAH) that I won't take this long to get this story done. I think eight chapters will do it, just about. Shouldn't be wasting my time about it. :( But soft! What light on yonder laptop screen breaks? Chapter 5, o Chapter 5, wherefore art thou Chapter 5...?**

**:)**

**I'll leave you to it. Don't worry. Here we go. **

The thing is, I always _do_ mean it, about the end of the world, but it's so often that people won't listen to me. No one seems to care about the important things; shouldn't it be the other way around? So you lost your job, so your girlfriend left you. Okay, that's not sunshine and rainbows, but how about poverty? War? Global climate change? The aliens in your bloody government? Hello? You have to _show_ them, spell it all out for them, make it so absolutely obvious: there's a giant rip in the sky. Oh, now they get it. Clever children, _you_ get a gold star, and _you_ get a gold star... Before they all go nova, that is. Limited edition.

Life is a one-time offer, so make the most of it while you can. Don't be a mass murderer. Always bring a banana to a party.

Ah, I'm so full of wisdom.

"Doctor, I don't want to interrupt but..." It was Martha. She _had_ been holding up well with all this.

Let her ask. I knew what was bothering her. "That's all right, I don't mind."

"But I don't really understand what's...?" "Happening?"

"It's like everything's suddenly going in a completely different direction..."

"It did for me, too. I wasn't even in danger before. Well, from sunburn, maybe." I ducked into a little cave of wires and started pulling them out in spools. "I try to get used to it. It's always flying around from one thing to the next. You never know what's going to happen. Imagine if you'd been knocked out of time somehow and landed right in the middle of the Farringham School for Boys. Again. Wouldn't you just flip?"

She laughed. "I might."

"Oh, but you _did_, I remember. You slapped me."

Martha cringed. "Sorry."

"I know exactly how you felt, though."

She stared at her hands. I had a guess at what she was thinking. She was thinking that of course I couldn't know, because I was so thick and I'd never realize the way she felt about me, blah, blah, blah.

"So infuriating," I told her, "to know what _should_ happen and watch it all go off track. Everything ends up worse than you could have ever imagined, and you don't know what to do, and it's so _unfair_."

I was smiling, just a little, and when Martha looked at me it was like she was seeing the sun rise, but it was still faded by a mist of uncertainty. Did she know that I knew?

"How people can be so _random_. They'll always surprise you- but you know what?" I put a hand on her shoulder. "That's a good thing. It really is. Because the good surprises always outweigh the bad ones. Look at him." I pointed a thumb at the Master, who had retreated into a corner, counting the people who stumbled into the ship's bridge with Toclafane hovering behind them. "Some religions like to measure evil by how much people deserve to suffer in some hell. But you know what a Buddhist would say? A Buddhist would say that everyone is just so many steps from enlightenment. Even the people we call wicked are just... late bloomers."

"You really think he's gone over to our side? Helping you because he wants to?"

"No. I don't. I think he's figured out what will happen if he doesn't help."

"And what happens if he _does?_" She had an idea of what would happen if he didn't. I'd made that clear.

I sighed. "Everything goes back to the way it was before."

"None of this will ever have happened?"

"It already hasn't, you know, not for the rest of the world. The moment I landed here... from them on, everything was erased into a Shadow Plane. It only exists _in potentia_, but it's still there. Nothing ever disappears from the universe. Just gets thrown in the back of the attic... do you understand?" "I think so."

"Good. Now get everyone in that circle. We'll send them down in batches. I can't get them all down in one trip." So I stood up and tried to get the attention of the crowd of people. I was beginning to worry that if the place got too packed, someone would end up being pushed into one of the six or so growing rifts in the bridge. "LISTEN TO ME oh, that's not going to work now, is it? Blast it. Where's a microphone... oh, right, they're all over by the..."

"_**LISTEN UP YOU HORRIBLE APES**_."

Somehow the Master had gotten to the sound system and found the mic that was connected to the psychic network.

"_**NOT YOU PEOPLE ON EARTH. I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU. DON'T MIND ME RIGHT NOW.**_"

The effect was such that every single person on the planet heard it as if he was yelling into their ear from inside their brain.

"So that worked," added the Master loudly, putting the microphone down. "Ooh, you're all quiet now. That's funny. Listen to the Doctor or I'll tell you what to do with _this_." He held up the microphone. "I'm not sure you _**WANT THAT**_, do you? No? Good. All right then."

I waved at everyone from where I was. "Yeah, he means me. Um. Thank you for that. Anyways, as many people as possible step in the glowy circle, don't stand in a cold spot, don't touch the black rips in the air. Now... good, everyone in? All right, so I'm going to start sending you all down in groups, and since there are about..." I did a head count. "Seventy people here" (I count fast) "that should take no more than four or five goes. The more the load in each round, the less it can take the next time, so I need... you, you, and you to get out and those three over there to get in..." It was going to be tricky, figuring out how to get everyone through. I did some mental math. "Not the man in the green jumper, he goes next round. Got to balance the weight. Hm... brown jacket lady, you're in."

"It's simply big bones," huffed the woman. "And this dress is _most_ unflattering..."

"All right, all right, I don't really care. Get in there."

There was an itchy sort of feeling in the back of my head. It was very annoying. I scanned the group, and I saw more than one person with a finger twisting in their ear. "Martha, do you hear that?" I asked quietly.

She paused. "Yeah, I do."

"Okay, that's enough of that, then..." I found the cause. "STOP DRUMMING NEAR THE MICROPHONES!" I bellowed. "Seriously, stop it."

"What? I wasn't...!" the Master protested.

"Yes, you were, and you were doing it on purpose because you're bored, but don't. Just don't. Okay, that's better. Now. Round one to the surface in three... two..." I held up the sonic screwdriver. "ONE."

The blue light contracted to a point with the people inside it, then ballooned out to a slightly reduced size, and it was completely empty. Several people gasped.

"Yes, yes, it's very surprising... now the next bunch. Make sure you haven't got any limbs poking out the edge, because we'll have to send them down the next round after you. And I'm not going to be the one picking them up."

I stepped down the central stairs and nearly fell flat on my face as the whole place shook. It was getting worse... it was definitely getting worse... Had a rift opened up in the engine? By the flight stabilizers? "Don't pay attention... just keep going. Round two... everyone in? All right." I was rushing it now. "Three, two, ONE, and... _gone_. Next load."

As I did this, I skirted around a chilly spot of air and stepped into the clutter of electronics. "I've got to set up for the pulse," I told the Master. "You direct traffic."

"Really? Oh, the tasks you set for me."

"Don't be like that. Go on. I'm sure they'll listen to you, too." I squatted in the tangle and picked up a pair of blue cords that had fallen apart.

As I worked, I began to feel like the world was getting smaller. Everything I heard - the sound of feet on the floor, the Master ordering people around, as he loved to do, the sound of my breathing - was echoing and far-off, and my peripheral vision felt as though it was closing shut. It wasn't either sense, though. It was the sixth one, the one that felt the threads of timelines weaving a story into the universe. I felt nothing. Space wasn't shrinking; time was. There was less and less time left to feel. It was emptying out, like someone had taken the bottom off an hourglass and let the sand spill on the floor.

"We're all set," called the Master. "You can sonic 'em now."

Just to make sure, I pushed myself up and looked at the group. "_Threetwoone_," I said loudly, and pressed the button on the screwdriver. When the blue ring reformed it was less than half its original size. "Who's left?" I asked.

Another crash. This time it would have pitched me to the floor, if I hadn't already been half-kneeling.

"Just them over there." A crowd of about twenty, including Martha and Jack and Lucy Saxon and a baker's dozen of scared-looking people and a couple of them who didn't look scared as much as slightly dizzy. One of them was the guard who'd threatened to kill the Master, and I saw Martha's mother and sister.

"All right, everyone but you lot, into the circle." The transport region had shrunk even further, but all it took was some creative stacking and the rather condensed knot of people was wobbling in the center of the light, trying not to fall apart. _It's nearly over_, I thought in relief. I didn't know how much more of this I could handle. The wave of adrenaline and anger was washing up against a sandbar of exhaustion and I thought that if I was starting to think in metaphors as ridiculously stupid as that then I should just give up right now.

But there was just one thing left to do. _Survive_.

And to do that, I needed things to go exactly as planned.

No. Wait. That wasn't right.

Because if things _did_ go exactly as planned, how was I supposed to escape? Had I even remembered to include that bit in the plan?

_Why do I never remember to include that bit in the plan?_

So I definitely needed something to go not according to plan. Right now the plan was great if you were anyone but me, and crap if you were the small minority that happened to be me. As usual, in fact. And I was genuinely worried that it was supposed to be like that.

... _it is returning_... _he will knock four times_...

If it was going to end like _this_ I was going to sue the universe and ask for a refund.

"_Right!_" I shouted, spinning around and facing the great contraption that I'd built. "Everyone in the circle. Every last one of you. I'll be seeing you soon."

"How will you get down, though?" said Jack Harkness and I knew he'd looked at the device on the floor and known what the little lights on the side meant. "It's down to normal power. When this thing goes, it _goes_. Last trip it takes. You won't be able to use it getting out." But he didn't sound concerned, simply curious. The man thought he knew me, knew me so well that of _course_ I'd have thought of a way out. He wanted to know what my brilliant plan of escape was.

So did I.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: This chapter is a little serious (but still wacky, as per Whovian specs, and it's _good_ angst where it is) but the chapter after this one will be more funny. I thought the end I have in mind (don't worry, we aren't there yet) would be more adorable with the Doctor getting all ready for the Angstyville Cemetery. So yeah. And also, review! Is any of this remotely believable? No! (not impossible, though. Just a bit unlikely) But it would be cool if it did happen. That's basically the theme of this particular story. 'Well, it would be cool if it did happen.' Enjoy the fast update and long chapter!**

Martha Jones had the expression of someone getting hit by a falling anvil they'd see coming from a mile off, but had thought was a very turbulent passing cloud. She knew me even better, and she had a good guess at what my brilliant plan really was. Wasn't it what I always tried to do, only to be thwarted by noble sacrifices and good luck and genius? Save as many people, that was always the goal. I didn't include myself in that. Not until recently, that is.

"Someone's got to control the thing, or it'll tear the world apart. And it's got to be me. Anyone else, and they run the risk of..."

"What about me?" Jack stepped over the circle. "What's the worst that could happen to me? What have I got to risk?"

"A message," I said quietly. "A warning from long ago and far in the future. I don't know what would happen if that was lost. And I know you can't die, but this wouldn't be like dying. It could erase you from ever existing. I don't know how I know that's true, but I do." It was like a half-forgotten memory.

"I think on a cosmic scale you being erased from time would be a lot more important than me, though. I know you don't want to hear it, but it's true."

The thing is, I had a pretty good response to that one. "Yeah," I said, holding up a hand. "But if I was erased none of _this_ would have ever happened. Because without me arriving, nice old Professor Yana would have continued on in his quest for a utopia and never looked twice at his watch. And also, just to mention, he'd probably be dead, because the Time War would never have ended, and that means the TARDIS would have been destroyed when the old museum I got it from was bombed, and so no paradox machine, but there's still a giant paradox, and so the easiest way for the universe to fix it would be to not let me be erased. So I wouldn't be."

"You _think_ you wouldn't be," the Master piped up. "I believe that was what you meant to say."

"Oh, shut up, you."

"If you want me to _that_ much, Doctor, then I think for you I... won't."

"Well, have fun with _your _future," I muttered, irritated. "And I won't even _care_."

"Have fun with yours," he returned. "You're the one with the suicidal plan. Go ahead and kill me or whatever in the future-past. I don't care either."

"You _didn't_," I said vengefully. "And I _did_. So, ha! See how you like _that_." I wasn't sure how that was supposed to have been a good response, but I wasn't at top form when it came to repartee.

He stuck his tongue out at me. "Nyah! I _will_ like it. So there!" That infantile, immature, irredeemably insolent...

"Well, I won't then, but... but I will _now_. I don't _care_ anymore. And you can't even gloat. I'm going to die _anyway_, so it might as well be here."

Once I said it, I knew I should have phrased that differently. There are certain things that always have to come out a certain way, and that was one of them. _I'm going to die anyway, so it might as well be here. _Try saying it, out loud. And you can't just say it, you have to mean it, you have to believe that it's true, really think it's going to happen... and try saying that without it making your voice crack, just a little.

Like it did mine.

"Doctor..." whispered Martha fearfully. "Don't say that..."

"It's true. Hadn't meant to tell you, but I suppose you won't remember." I turned around and reached in my shirt pocket for the sonic screwdriver, wondering if I should just install it into my hand or something, for convenience. When you think about it that could be quite useful, but it isn't really my style. I wouldn't feel right with some kind of bionic hand.

As if that thought had been the cue, I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned around without thinking, starting to say something, anything... and stopped. Because the owner of the hand hadn't been who I expected.

"Just... say that again," said the Master, almost... _gently?_ What was he playing at? "What in Gallifrey's name do you mean?"

I stumbled back, just out of shock more than anything else, and before I could think of something cleverer to say I just said something true. "They... someone told me. Just something someone told me, not long ago."

He still had this faraway look in his eyes. "And you believed them?"

"It wasn't just them. It was the Ood, too, and everything else..." In my jaw I felt the twitching beginnings of unreasonable anger, and I didn't understand why it made me feel like that, every time I thought about it, dying. Why did it curdle in my chest like every time I saw a hand raised against a human child, or a gun pointed at a scared young man just looking for his girl, have _you_ seen her anywhere? - even though I know he's too late to save her. Why did it make me feel like that, to think of dying...?

"What did they tell you?" He moved closer, and I backed away more, just trying to chew over the knot in my throat. It was like I felt about bad things being done to people who don't deserve it...

"I... why do _you_ care?"

"Something that gets you this scared should worry anyone." It was evasive, not a real response at all, I knew. Factually correct but not true.

"No," I whispered. "Just me this time. And this could be it, anyway. Everything fits, doesn't it? 'He will knock four times...' that's what she said..."

The Master whispered the words under his breath, repeating them, trying to make them mean something else. He was smiling now, in a lopsided, pained way, like he couldn't help but find irony in all this.

"It doesn't _matter_ anymore," I said angrily. "I have to do what I have to do, and all of you have to get down to the surface and whether I come down or not doesn't change anything, because all of you _will_ be seeing me again. Not like this, not with all these memories. But I'll be here, the whole time. Old. Might be a bit old. Little wrinkly around the eyes. Spotty. Oh, I can't forget spotty. Love the spots..." My voice (damn the thing) was shaking. I thought how sure of myself I'd been then, even in the worst hours of that awful year. And now, here I was, with everything going so well, and my voice was actually _shaking_. "Well, don't just stand there," I finally managed to get out. "Get in the circle and let me do my job, all right?"

"But what are you saving us for?" Martha's mother, who hadn't spoken the whole time. She had an air of nausea floating around her, like she was truly ill, but I could see right away it was coming from fear. "I still don't know who you are, or why you're any better than _him_-"

"_Mum!_"

"Martha, how can you possibly know what he's up to? You don't _know_ him!"

"Yes, I do! Better than you do, anyway! If _you_ hadn't been so willing to think he was up to no good, we wouldn't be-"

She swallowed the last of the sentence before it could come out.

"But I've been listening to what you've been saying," said Martha's mother resolutely. "And from what I can tell, once you get that mad contraption working, you'll be able to undo everything that happened here. Am I right?"

It was horrible to tell the truth, as usual, but I couldn't find the heart to lie. "No," I told her sadly. "Not everything. Just from the point where I appeared. When I started acting funny."

"You're always acting funny, though."

"Jack, that's not helping here."

"Well, all right. Do you mean when you started acting _especially _weird?"

"About there, yes."

"Or should we say when _he_ started acting especially weird?" Jack pointed at the Master. "Weird for him."

Loath to go without some kind of physical demonstration eliminating all obfuscating ambiguities, the Master came over and dragged me into the center of the room. Then he jabbed the end of the laser screwdriver into the tip of my nose. "We were right about at this point," he said, looking around. "This was happening, and everything from then on won't have."

Yeah. Very eloquent. "Watch that," I said mildly, looking at the laser. "You could hurt someone, you know."

"Sorry." He put it away, and substituted his index finger.

"Don't know if that helps, but I appreciate the effort." Sarcasm again.

"But yeah, right about there," the Master went on. "No dolphins."

I rolled my eyes. "A world without dolphins..."

"No zapping Toclafane."

"I didn't _mean_ to," I protested. "It was a split-second reaction."

The Master looked at me curiously. "Since when do your split-second reactions involve killing things? I thought that was me."

I shut up. _Since they told me my song was ending..._ Do _you_ want to know why I'd been on that planet, chatting about dolphins? Avoiding what I knew had to come next, all the anger built up inside me, all the shame from Mars, all the fear, all the pent-up... _humanity?_ What do you _think?_

"You really think you're going to die," said the Master wonderingly. Then his face crumpled. "I can't _believe_ you. You're a _joke_." He turned around and stalked into the circle. "Well, if you're going to go _looking_ for it, I won't stop you." Why did he look so angry? What did I do? He _was_ insane, of course, but sometimes what went on in his head was stranger than the usual.

He looked the way I felt, actually. Like all of this shouldn't be happening. Like it just wasn't right.

"Because if we go back to the way it was before, you _will_ get shot," said Martha fiercely. "And I don't know what to do then! We'll all be stuck in some horrible future-"

_Yes_, I thought. _And I'm dying so it can happen._

"And Mum and Tish, they're_ here!_ What was he planning to do? Hold them hostage? What was going to happen to us?"

_And here we are, with no fighting, no killing, no pain, and it all has to be destroyed for the sake of the future_... _NO! I won't make the same mistake twice..._

"What was going to _happen?_"

_And I'm going to die._

_I don't want to..._

"It's not _fair!_"

It came out before I could hold it back. I'd realized why I was feeling like this. It was _unfair_, so incredibly, horrifically unfair, and I had to just go along with it.

But now everyone was looking at me in sympathy. And I couldn't have that.

"Life isn't fair," I said, breathing hard and trying to hold in the worst of it. "It just isn't. But I can't change everything. I can't save everyone. Sometimes there's a time and place for everyone to die. Something set in stone... not stone, because all you need it time for a stone... time, or a sandblaster..." I wished desperately to sandblast my future away and carve something better, something more lasting and more _fitting_...

"ARGH!" I wailed. "METAPHORS AGAIN!" I beat my head with my fists. "Why, why, _why_ with the metaphors? Why?" Then I took a deep, deep breath, like a dragon getting ready to roast everyone in sight.

I let it out. "Into the circle," I said. "Everyone. Now. No questions. I'm starting the pulse."

It was simple enough to get to my post and set up the last few couplings. "So I'm not sure how well this is going to work," I pointed out. "But I think it'll be horrible enough to cancel out the rifts. Everyone within a two or three million mile radius should hear it... unless you're in the bubble, which is right around here. But I think I've give you lot psychic asylum, though," I amended. "Means you can't hear it. The sound isn't dangerous, but it won't be very pleasant."

"I'll take my chances," said Jack. "I don't think we ought to get any special privilege, just because we know you." He turned around until he saw more nodding.

I realized that for them, this wouldn't be like a reset. For them, this world was real. For me, it was already gone. "Right," I agreed, looking down. "No special anything. Just... cover your ears, if it makes you feel better."

"Will it actually do anything?" asked Jack skeptically.

"I dunno. It _could_."

"You lying?"

Of course I was. "Well... maybe." And then I turned and pointed the sonic right at the heart of the mass of electronics, and I wondered what to say at such a pivotal moment. Usually I could come up with something clever.

Guess it wasn't my day.

"This _should_ work," I said, and put my thumb on the button.

It looked like nothing happened, but I didn't expect it to do much at first. The only really distinctive difference (and the sign that it _was_ working) was that the light of the screwdriver was on, but there wasn't any sound coming from it.

Or, not unless you stood at _exactly_ the right angle. And even then you wouldn't hear anything, because your eardrum would have ruptured, and possibly your skull as well. Because I had it on a very, _very_ strong setting.

And then the next indication came, and that was the glow that began to form around the assembled microphones and computer bits and who knew what else had been added to the mix.

Martha was anxiously huddled in the transport circle between her sister and mother, holding on to them as if they were balloons and would float away if she let go. "Are you ready to send us down?" she asked.

"Once the signal pattern's stabilized, I can start targeting the rifts," I told her, as the screwdriver hummed with power. It was getting difficult to hang on to. The whole room had begun to quiver, like there was an earthquake, only we weren't on the Earth's surface... so would that be a skyquake?

Just as a side note, there really ought to be something called a skyquake. It reeks of awesome.

"Just one moment... There! Now, are you all ready?"

Martha Jones lifted her head and looked straight at me. "Don't you dare die," she ordered.

What could I say? Would _don't worry _work? Or maybe _trust me_? Should I reassure her, or put on a brave face? Would it matter what I did here? No one would remember. Sometimes you just want to tell people everything, and let them take care of things for you.

"I don't want to," I said in a small voice, realizing that these people might be the last I'd ever see. "But no one else gets a choice. Why should I?"

And right then, and only then, did they understand that I really _was_ from the future, not the Doctor they knew. And I saw in Jack and Martha's eyes how hard that hit. What they was me, standing up here with no one by my side. Like so long ago... the most terrible decision I had ever had to make... and for the first time I wondered that if I hadn't been alone, if there had been someone there, like there always was, I might have found a way to save them.

And now, to save myself.

"I'm sending you down," I told them, and turned the sonic screwdriver to the vortex manipulator. "Hands on ears?" They all dutifully complied. "Count of three..." I shook my head. "No, count of _five_..."

Clinging to the last shred of interpersonal contact I might ever have...

"Five. Four... Three..."

What some annoying people do is, when they reach one, they do whatever it is they're counting down to do, but that's not how you're _supposed_ to do it. It's on _zero_ when the countdown's over, not _one_. Get your math right! I mean, come on...

"Two..."

I would do it right. I wouldn't hesitate. I wouldn't break down.

"One."

My finger was on the button, but then something froze in my chest and...

I hesitated.

**AN: Did you forget to reviewwwww? ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

And a second later I pressed the button, but it came at the same time as the walls exploded, spraying sparks everywhere. When I got to my feet I realized that no one had vanished. The vortex manipulator was glowing blue.

"What happened?" Martha said, her voice getting higher as she looked around. "Why aren't we...?"

"Delayed reaction!" I gasped. "Thirty or so seconds to transit. Don't worry about it, just _stay put!_" The ship was starting to collapse, to _really_ collapse. How had it held together all this time, with the rifts growing around it? Inside it? And so, all around me, the structure was shaking, as I pulled the apparatus together and tried to hold on as I prepared to receive the response from the planet, as seven billion people suddenly heard the most unendurable, grating shriek filling their heads. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them, but there really hadn't been time to come up with a better plan.

Across the room, I saw the Master watching me from inside the light. Lucy was clinging to his arm, and he had pulled her close without realizing it, automatically trying to make sure she didn't fall out of the cramped space. It was the most... _human_ thing I'd ever seen him do in a long time.

It wasn't fair, I thought, as the signal ricocheted off the transceiver, setting the whole thing aglow. It wasn't fair that after all the improbable good things that had happened right now, everything had to be undone. It wasn't fair that you couldn't give people second chances. I'd made that rule myself, and it wasn't fair. Time shouldn't be like that, always, eternally constant wherever it matters. Time isn't alive, I thought. It doesn't care what I do to it. It's not a person or a thing. It's just a causal dimension. But it owns me. It owns everyone.

Unless you're really, really clever.

I almost missed the tiny movement of his hand as the Master slid something off his finger and pressed it into Lucy's hand. He said a few words to her very quietly, something I couldn't hear, and then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he stepped from the circle.

As the vortex manipulator fired up at last for the final transport, my mind seemed to take a picture of everyone standing there. Shock, surprise, confusion, fear, stoic acceptance. And Lucy Saxon, with an expression of disbelief, with the fingers of one hand touching her face, and those of the other curled around the Master's signet ring.

And then they all vanished, save the one.

"_You_," I said emphatically. "_YOU._"

"Am I stupid?" he laughed.

Wordlessly I nodded.

"Am I reckless and incautious?" I kept on nodding. "Am I insane?" He did a tiny dance of glee. "Yes, I _am!_"

"You," I tried one more time, steadied myself and took a deep breath. "Get over here." I pointed at the spot by my side. "You're on sound duty."

"Haha! Duty! Such a funny word!" It looked like, by staying, he'd surprised himself the most out of all of us. And it was doing odd things to his already odd mind. "Am I the disc jockey? DJ Saxon?"

"How about you put your _brain_ back in your _skull_ and help out a little?" I was trying to be a little angry, but there wasn't any anger in me. Not a drop. I had run dry. So had he.

"Help? Yes! Help! I do that now! I help!" The Master grinned, nearly unzipping his face in the process. He seemed to be exploding with adrenaline. "I help _you!_"

"Not _now_, you aren't!"

Still giggling, he leaped over the makeshift platform of electronics and spun around. "Helping the Doctor save the world..." he said wonderingly as his hand shot to his shirt pocket, then pulled out the laser screwdriver. "Well, why not! I don't want to destroy it, after all! I want to rule it!"

"Why _do_ you want to rule it?" I asked before I could stop myself.

This only made him laugh harder. "I've forgotten!"

"What did you do, back there?" I demanded. "You gave Lucy something..."

"A kiss?"

"Besides that!"

He pushed his fingers through his hair, in a gesture I recognized well. He seemed to be debating whether or not to tell, like a small child with a very special secret. Then he beamed. "Something _clever!_" he declared. "A surprise. You'll see."

I raised an eyebrow. "Should I hope not to?" His surprises tended to be very deadly and unpleasant.

"No! You'll love it! Shiny!" The last exclamation was directed at wires all around us, which were, indeed, shining like glowworms on steroids from the built-up energy. But seriously?_ Shiny?_ How ADD could you _get?_

"Keep the signal feed going," I ordered loudly. "I'm targeting the rifts in the ship first, to buy us time!"

"I am, I am! Don't worry! I have this under control... I _like_ controlling things..."

"You do realize we're going to _die!_" I yelled in the Master's ear. "Little things like that make a big difference sometimes!"

"Well, I thought I was going to die anyway! This way is more fun!"

God, that man. He was utterly _impossible_. "I never said you would die, you know."

"I _surmised_," he said smugly. "Look at your face... of course I died. You only look at people like that when you've seen them die."

That just wasn't true. Or at least I wasn't willing to admit it if it was. "No, I don't. You made that up. You hardly _know_ this face. And besides, I've seen you die _loads_ of times before. _Think about it_." I couldn't help but bring this small point of interest up.

"I've spent a lot of my life dying," the Master agreed. He shrugged. "It's a habit. Maybe that's why I'm here."

"It's _not_ why you're here. Why _are_ you here? And what do you think will happen when the _Valiant_ explodes? You think you'll be reset? You won't! It'll always be here, where you die, and you won't-"

"Go on to ravage the planet and imprison you for a year, neither of which I want to do anymore, and then die anyway and everything gets reset? What's the difference, in the end?"

"I'm different! Martha will be different! Her family, Jack..."

"Happier, I'm sure, without a year of me."

"But not necessarily better! Time doesn't work like that!"

"And it kills you, doesn't it?" The Master turned and looked up at me, and I felt like something long dead inside me had come back to life.

It was like he'd seen into me, seen what happened on Mars, all the awful terror and shame of it. But he hadn't, he just knew I was different. He'd seen the change before anyone else had, and just pretended not to, because there's no one you know better than your worst enemy. There's no other way of doing things. You can't survive unless you know them so well that you can repeat what they say before they say it, like that horrible creature on the _Midnight_. You have to think in their voice, you have to dream in their body, in their world, you have to know them better than you know yourself.

And then you have to destroy them. Or watch them destroy you first.

So he knew me better than Jack or Martha, and he knew the only way I'd find a way out of this was if I was doing it to save someone else. Not myself, no matter how much I feared dying. But another life - that was all it took. He knew I'd save his life.

But what for? More death? And why did _this_ one have to die? Why the one that was different? The one who smiled and kissed his wife goodbye and really, truly meant it? The one who laughed at danger and stood at my side when no one else did? Why him, why now? _Unfair_.

"Yes." I swallowed. "It does."

"You looked like me," he said suddenly.

It took me a second to digest this. "What?"

"You asked why I stayed. It was because you looked like me."

All the while, by the way, the rifts were vanishing around us, closing up and vanishing into pure, clean air. But the ship was still shaking. Who knew what systems had been sliced open? How long we had left?

"I _looked like you?_ What, when I shot the Toclafane? When?"

"No," he laughed. "Running around, no rules apply. Ordering people about, treating me like I was a bad little brother-"

Surprised, I said, "But I'm _always_ like that!"

He didn't say anything for a moment. "Not around me, you aren't," he eventually responded. "Not with me, not anymore."

"Well, I'm sorry I don't _accommodate_." I rolled my eyes.

"You looked like me, like before... before everything. You remember, don't you? Crazy, bossy, keeping you out of trouble-"

"Trouble you started."

"Okay. Fair point. But you remember what I was like, it was always, 'Theta, do this. Theta, do that. Don't touch that, Theta. Don't tease the bogbeast, Theta-'"

"The _bogbeast_," I said through a haze of sudden pain, and I clamped my mouth shut. I didn't _want_ to remember. I didn't want to be reminded. It hurt too much. Couldn't stop it though _- remembered running, for possibly the first time, running for my life, straight off the top of the hill in panic, rolling down all the way, curling up and thinking I was going to be dead in seconds... Until I heard the feet running up behind me, saw the tall shape, with raven hair, wildly waving a genuine lightning rod from an armory or an unconscious guard or who knew where (I didn't want to ask, in case it was gotten through what I always called _infringement_ in just that tone of voice) and then I was even more scared that a stray bolt would hit me, but then the snarling stopped and six heavy feet went galloping away and then I was pulled up by the arm by someone calling me imbecile and lackwit and stupid midget and dumbass and everything else he could think of, before laughing his head off and picking me up (because he was that much bigger than me then) and finally asking -_

"Are you all right?"

I started. "What?"

"You look... sad..."

I reached up and touched my cheek and realized I was crying. Only a little. Not _buckets_, you know. Just... a bit moist. Nothing really disgusting or embarrassing. "Maybe I'm allergic to you," I said. "Yeah, that's probably it. You walking pollen, you."

"But that's why. You looked like me, and I remembered you. Little Theta."

"The shrimp," I said thickly. "I always _said_ I'd be bigger'n you someday."

"Shrimpy little ginger Theta," he went on, watching my pain with half-enjoyment, half-sorrow, "with the stupid, _stupid_ haircut..."

I closed my eyes. "Was this what you wanted? See me like this before I die?"

He slapped my arm. "Who says we're going to die? Look on the bright side of things, why don't you?"

"All right. The rifts are closing up. The world might not be ending... the ship's going to blow up, taking us with it. Very bright, I'm sure. And loud. Those things tend to be loud." I frowned. "You don't mind, do you? Blowing up the ship?"

"Well, it's pretty much mine," he said. "Prime minister's privilege. Belongs to the people, so I get it. That's politics, see?"

"So you're fine and dandy about that, me blowing up your ship?" It was really a rhetorical question. Of course he was.

"Ha! I didn't like it much anyway. It was too boring. And this is fun!"

"Yeah, I got that."

"No, really, I've got a problem with you blowing up my Doctor," the Master said, and then as the floor buffeted us backwards, he slipped and dove for a handhold, i.e., me. "Whoops!" he laughed.

I looked down. "I thought we went _over this already_."

"What?" he asked, giggling. He was literally clinging to my waist. The man had no respect for personal space, no matter what face he was wearing.

"NO! GRABBING! ME! _EVER!_" I bellowed. "_OFF!_"

Point of historical interest: We actually _did_ have that agreement, along with a few others, and they were like the Geneva Conventions of archrivalry, in that they were always being broken. The first of them was that we would never restrain, tie up, or otherwise affix one another to an object with straps of some sort. This was because I had to have this operation once when I was really little, and they strapped me to the table while these robots cut me open and so basically I used to go berserk whenever anything like that happened. Sometimes I actually threw up (the most well-kept secret in the universe, by the way). So rule one was no getting tied up, because that was rubbish. Also, rule one: broken, all the time.

Rule two was the no sudden physical contact one, and that held for a while. But as of now: broken. I could never remember rule three (partly because it was a rule specifically applying to me, and mostly because it was hell-ass long, like a 5-paragraph essay or something), but I think rule four was no eight-legged, multi-eyed, hairy companions with spinnerets, because the Master had arachnophobia. Or he used to. I forget. But I wasn't really a spider person either, so that one lasted. The fifth was about no armed combat (esp. with special swordy weapons) because everyone knew that what happened in those was that the bad guy fell off a convenient high place. Rule five: broken by me, but that wasn't fair because the Master used a shimmer and I didn't know it was him (but I _creamed_ him, anyway, so that was cool). So those were the Five and a Half Pillars of Death, which was all we could think of to call them at the time.

So you understand why he at least chose to break rule two and not rule one. Unfortunately, I had a feeling this incarnation would be more inclined to break rule one, and if that ever happened (if by some rotten chance he stayed neither dead _nor _nice) I would have to just control my stomach. Although being (in essence) hugged around the middle was almost as potentially nauseating, though. Especially if the hugger is very clingy (and villainously vile) and the huggee has just eaten.

"Remember..." I lowered my voice. "_The rules_." Rule Five and a Half: never talk about the rules by name where people can potentially hear you. Never mind that we were alone on a crashing ship with the whole planet deafened by the scream of a sonic screwdriver. You never know what rare improbable thing will happen.

"I _tripped_, okay? It was a _reflex_."

"It most certainly was _not_. Get off."

The Master started to straighten up, but another tremor hit the ship before he was fully balanced.

"GET OFF OF ME-!"

"I _fell!_" he protested. "It wasn't on _purpose!_"

Breathing hard, I extricated myself. "All right," I said dangerously. "We get off this ship _now_. Because it's all falling to bits and is about to explode and _you_ can't keep your _hands_ to _yourself!_"

"I wasn't _trying_..." And then the other wall blew out, the one right behind us. I had the presence of mind to cover my face and dive out of the way. _Think_, I thought as I leapt up once more, pushing my brain to the utter limit. _Damn it! THINK! You always have a way out! What do you do? What would the Doctor do in this situation? Something clever, not like what he's doing now! Argh!_

Then I heard the Master whimper, "It _hurts_..." He was still curled up into a tight ball, and I saw his clothing and, in some cases, skin, in tatters where it had been scored by the searing sparks.

And then I remembered again, what he'd said about me before, and about the bogbeast, and instead I thought, _if he were me and I were him so long ago, what would _Koschei_ do?_

What would ... _of course_.

I ran over and hauled the Master to his feet, brandished my sonic screwdriver, faced the window. "ABANDON SHIP!" I screamed, and as the next tremor hurled us towards the glass, I flicked the stetting of the screwdriver to high _C sharp_, and the window exploded into crystal, an explosion we flew through into the open air.

Now, this was about where we were: Eight hundred meters above the surface of the Earth. _Falling_. Behind us, the _Valiant_ exploded.

**AN: REVIEW please... :) If someone writes a critique that's really detailed I'll be oh so happy.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Nearly at the end... and not just any end... the END OF TIME ITSE- okay you get the idea. I won't spray spit in your cameras over it, unlike SOME people.**

For an eternity there was just this: _gravity_. Because really, when you're _falling_, there's nothing else worth _thinking_ about. You don't exactly _chat_ or make _small talk_ with anyone, or even with your own mind. Because you can't hear yourself over the sound of the wind, and of your whole brain going AAAAaaaaaa...

The screaming and flailing isn't terror, the way I see it. It's you trying to be _alive_ the whole way down, tearing out your last breath because there's so much wasted energy if you don't, and you can't die like that. You have to let it all out.

Being that I wasn't planning on dying, I didn't focus on the incoherent screaming bit. I was trying to buy time. So I screamed coherently.

"Spread out!" was what I was screaming. "Grab my hands and spread out!" Because the Master _wasn't_ really thinking about survival. And not thinking about anything else, either, so his limbs did what they wanted. They wanted to hang on really tight. It was like he felt that if he make sure I fell with him, I'd come through it all okay. So, okay, sweet, whatever. But _still_. Doing what I say would be a lot better.

"SPREAD OUT!"

I think he finally heard me. "What's the point?"

"MORE! TIME! NOT! DEAD!"

"What?"

So having exhausted my vocal cords, I tried a different tactic. It involved sort of kicking him into position while holding onto his wrists. Orienting oneself in free fall is really a strangely difficult task. But finally he seemed to understand.

"Crazy plan of yours, Doctor!" the Master shouted as the wind began to lessen and the descent slowed, though not by any life-saving degree.

"Yes, I know! What else was left?" When you enunciated really clearly, you could almost be heard over the _HWHHHH_ of air whipping past your ears. And that _is_ what it sounds like. Sort of.

"You know I _hate_ to spoil your enjoyment, but could you maybe clue me in on the ending? Like how you plan on not _bursting open like an overripe tomato_ when you hit the ground?"

"Thanks for that image!" I yelled back. "I just _ate!_"

"So you'll splat harder? What? I don't like the thought any more than you do-"

My coat was the main problem with hearing, because it was cracking like a whip trailing behind me, but if I was going to die, I would die with it on. So I thought long and hard about what I'd actually heard the man say. Finally I put together the response, "Somehow I find that hard to believe!"

He grabbed hold of my forearms and pulled in closer. "Because if you die then all of this will have been _wasted!_"

I didn't think to ask what he meant by 'all of this'. I assumed it meant all that he'd become, all the improbable ways he'd changed. But they wouldn't last, would they? No. Even if I did survive, it would be nothing but a memory...

"Idea!" I said, trying not to think about how much closer the ground seemed. "Toclafane catch us!"

"With what? Spikes? Besides, they've either been blown up or sealed off in the rifts!"

"Oh! Okay! Not good idea, then. Never mind, I'll just think of something else, shall I?" By now far above us, I saw a blanket of light falling over the horizon, and thought, _reset_. A temporal implosion swallowing up the fractured reality like an industrial vacuum cleaner gobbling up bits of broken glass. I doubted we'd reach the ground before the light got to us, and that was a relief, in a way, because even though it would have never happened, I don't think that I wanted to experience that. Splatting.

Although, since I wasn't a part of this timeline, I actually _would_ splat.

"Right," I said, because there was just one option left. "When I say so, you're going to push me off that way as hard as you can! Aim for that dark patch there!"

"What, you mean the deadly and terrible rift in space-time? _That_ dark patch?"

"Let's just stick to 'dark patch', shall we? There's exactly _one_ possibility I haven't tried yet, and that's falling through a rift, because I think they open up in the real universe! That's what would explain everything! It's the _only_ explanation! So if I can get through one before the reset wave erases it... I'll end up there!"

"Yes, but which _part_ of the universe? Because ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine percent of it's just _space_! You'll just end up floating in the middle of nothing!"

"But I'm a hollow spot in the universe right now! There's a me-shaped 4D hole in reality and maybe with the TARDIS and the luck I've got and everything else, I'll just fall into that hole and fill it!"

"What about Horochron's Law of Disruptive Affinity! If any event or object-"

We said it at the same time. "If any event or object with causal significance is removed from a time stream, and has a theoretically equal possibility of reentering at all points, it will tend towards whichever point tends towards the highest amount of disturbance!" (this is the Time Lord equivalent of your Murphy's Law)

"... and you _dying_," he finished hoarsely, "In space, without regenerating, and so on, without fulfilling a prophecy or anything, just dead, and the universe goes on without you... that's pretty damn _disturbing_, don't you think?"

"What else have I got? Should I just hope that I land on something _soft_?"

"I think your chances inside that rift are just about the same as there being a surprise roofless pillow factory right below us, actually!"

"Just do it! We're nearly at the-"

The Master grabbed my face and pulled me really close, and I thought at first he was going to kiss me or something, and that would have been _really_ terrifying, even worse that the idea of hitting solid concrete at this speed, even with all the mess that would make, but he didn't, just shouted in my ear, "The password is dolphin! Remember that! The password! Is! _Dolphin_!"

And before I could ask what mind-altering spores he'd accidentally inhaled, I looked behind me and realized that the rift was almost beside us and I screamed, "Now!"

He pushed out as hard as possible, and there was vertigo, and there was wind, and there was light that was falling all above my head like the sparks of the biggest firework ever invented, but the darkness hit first, and then it all came unraveling into nothing threads and wisps of what never was...

* * *

><p>The Doctor woke up.<p>

He had been lying on his side on a spare bed in a spare bedroom. The hat and luau he'd been wearing on Vega Altair were both dangling off the bedpost, and he hadn't gotten undressed, so his clothes were a bit wrinkled.

As far as he could remember, he'd simply exhausted all his energy trying to live the most he could before it all ended for him. Somewhere along the line he must have passed out, and his friends had brought him back to the TARDIS and bundled him up in the nearest bed.

Very dignified. Now they would all remember him as the morose character who couldn't hold his _yrcha_. He rolled upright, swung his legs over the side, and then buried his face in his hands.

He was going to die. That was the worst part. And he couldn't keep putting it off. The Ood were waiting for him.

He'd had a strange dream, but he couldn't remember the details. As of late all of his dreams ended in an explosion of fire and emptiness, but this one had been different, hadn't it? Had it been a funny dream? A happy dream? An exciting dream? The last dream he would ever have?

The Doctor looked back at the pillow and put his hand on the fabric. Damp.

Maybe not so different, then.

He flipped the pillow over angrily, so the tear-stains didn't show. Then he picked up the hat and luau - if he was going to die, why not die looking like a fool? Maybe he'd even die laughing - and got to his feet. The Doctor wandered towards the console room, with half of him pleading to take just one more trip, to see one more place, and the other half telling him to just go, get it over with.

And on a frozen planet known as the Oodsphere, in the middle of a shallow bank of snow, a light appeared, and the strains of materialization echoed around icy arches and caverns.

... "You should not have delayed," the calm, mellow voice says, and the Doctor (after attempting humor, and failing) follows Ood Sigma to the firepit, where the circle breaks and rejoins to let him in, and he takes their gentle hands and lets them show him what he needs to know...

... laughter...

The Doctor froze, even more than he was doing so already in the cold air. "_That man is dead_."

_I saw him die, I held him, I burned his body..._

And they tell him about the secret, about the conspiracy, about the dreams...

"Dreams?" the Doctor said quickly, his mood changing from fear to... bemusement. All the Ood looked at him in their kind way, but they were confused, too. "What kind of dreams, exactly?"

"Dreams of terrible things to come. Of a face in the darkness..."

"Oh," said the Doctor. "Not like my dream, then. I think mine had... microphones... Never mind. Keep going. Sorry about that." He waved a hand.

... they tell him _it is returning_ and he's appropriately terrified, leaps to his feet, he has to stop what's going to happen before it hits, barreling down the snowy path, heading for his TARDIS...

Only his scalp was itching something _awful_, worse than ever. Part of him was trying to shoo the rest of himself along - _Come on, Doctor! Get the TARDIS to Christmas in London already!_ and part of him found that funny. Why? There wasn't anything to be in a good mood about! He should be terrified, not... eager? What was _wrong_ with him? For god's sake, this was supposed to be his _death_. This wasn't _fun_.

_Everyone had dreams_...

Then he and his ship were crashing through the space-time continuum, careening around white holes and wormholes and stoplight stars, falling into the center of the disturbance in causality, because it was so glaringly obvious. He knew _exactly_ where to look.

Now, when he actually thought about it, he didn't have much of a plan beyond that. He had a feeling this would just result in his being captured and some serious breaking of Rule One, and then he would simply give up and puke all over the Master's shoes (and not for the first time, but _no one would ever know this_), and the universe would end out of sheer disgust.

Huzzah.

He felt, as a matter of fact, like he was still sleeping, or maybe that _this_ was the dream and something else was reality. There was something unnerving about that idea, even though it didn't seem to be a _bad_ thing, since his life basically had gone stupid since he found out about his death. Maybe some of that was his fault, though. Okay. Most of it was. But some of it was just pure unfairness.

The TARDIS had locked onto a faint trail and as it tumbled to the exact correct spot in time and space, the Doctor considered what to say.

_Well, hello again. I see you aren't dead..._

_Yes, how observant of you. I'm not... but YOU will be in a second... bwahaha..._

That wasn't going to work at all.

_Tell me what you're up to or else!_

_... No._

Even worse, because he could absolutely see that happening.

_I surrender._

_What?_

_You heard me. I said I surrender._

_Er. Why?_

_Because that's all I could think of to say on the way here._

Actually that one had something going for it, since it involved very little effort on the Doctor's part. But it wasn't exactly practical.

_So, before we start fighting or anything, I just wanted to say -_

_... what?_

_If you tie me up I'll puke on your shoes._

Getting closer to expressing some real sentiment, actually. Maybe not very snappy, but... What was he supposed to say? The truth? _Oh, hello Master. Do you know, I had a weird dream last night and you were in it._

He imagined what the Master might say about that. Something slightly disturbing, probably.

_Really? (leers) What was it about?_

_God help me I have no clue. I remember there was something exploding, but that's all._

_Why are you telling me this? _

_I don't know! I thought it might be important. Or... something._

_It isn't._

_Mm. Yes, you're probably right. Except I don't usually dream. Or sleep, actually._

_Why were you asleep this time?_

_I think I passed out on Vega Altair from too much _yrcha_. And you didn't really need to know that._

_Okay, so why did you tell me? _

_Because I'm talking to you in my brain, not in real life! I'm having an imaginary conversation with my archenemy in my head and I just sort of broke the fourth wall there, didn't I?_

_Demolished it. Wrecking-ball style. Debris everywhere._

_Sweet Gallifrey, I'm demented. I'm talking to myself by talking to _you. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

So that one didn't really go anywhere, either. This was hopeless. Futile. It was the exact definition of the word, and of all its synonyms.

Then the shaking stopped, and the Doctor knew that he was wherever he was supposed to be. Wherever that was.

It seemed to be a giant junkyard. There was random garbage lying about, but not in such great quantities that it was supposed to be there. A neighborhood could have been built over this (it almost looked in the process of being built), but no one would have wanted to live there.

The Doctor's shoes crunched on gravel and dirt. There was some broken glass, too, and bits of plastic, because this was, of course, the Plastic Age. Humans liked to call it the Computer Age, but what do you call it when literally everything is made out of plastic? They even put plastic-y polymers in food, just because it was left over and they didn't know what to do with it.

And speaking of food, why was it that the Doctor smelled hamburgers? He turned on the spot and saw a stand in the far distance, where someone had set up shop under the false impression that the act of being here wasn't going to spoil whatever food there was. The air could curdle milk.

Planks of wood, planks of metal, planks of plastic (of course) - some served as barriers and others as bridges as the Doctor made his way through the wasteland. It seemed like the random crap grew out of the ground, because no one would have actually bothered to put it there. Though he had traveled all over the universe, the Doctor still was used to more purposeful urban planning.

_BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

That was bad. That was very bad. So, of course, he ran towards it.


	9. Chapter 9: An Epilogue, Of Sorts

**AN: And here we are, after all this time: the end of the story! ****And the beginning of another, if you want to think of it that way. ****My first completed and uploaded multi-chapter legitimate stand-alone Doctor Who fanfiction! It would get a (shiny!) medal, but the category wouldn't fit on the engraving. All good things...**

_BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG._

"That's not four, that's _eight_," muttered the Doctor. "_Technically_." Then he revised it to twelve as the hollow ringing started up again. Someone (ha! like he didn't know who) was very anxious to be heard. Four times, eight times, twelve times, _sixteen times_, and the Doctor ran, mostly because he'd feel silly if he walked, or strolled, or ambled, or god, time and reason forbid, skipped or sashayed. Though why he would ever do this was unclear.

At the sixteenth peal of the rusty-oil-drum (dear lord don't hit that with anything that will make sparks) cloister bell, the Doctor reached the summit of a hill, slid right over it a few meters, and skidded to a stop. He stared down the heap of soil or dirty, fluffy plastic, or whatever the hill was made of, and saw in the center of the carved out valley, the source of the sound and its maker, who was dropping a large metal (or possibly plastic) club.

The figure in black spread its arms. "What the _hell_, Doctor?" it shouted up at him good-naturedly. "It's been _days!_"

What the hell indeed. There was no doubt about it, now, as the Doctor came closer. The figure had to be him. His hair had somehow turned blond, and his jaw was rough with stubble, but it was actually... him.

And he looked rather pleased with himself, so that was probably bad news.

"What? I thought you'd have something clever to say!" He still had his arms out, like he was expecting a hug, and that added to the weirdness. And the Doctor _wasn't_ going to do it. He just wasn't.

"I thought I would, too."

Facing off, about ten meters apart, each looking like they expected the other to try to escape.

"You're wearing a hooded sweatshirt," the Doctor finally said. "...why?"

"Why not? What's wrong with a hoodie? I wear hoodies now. They're cool."

"If you say so..."

"I do say so. Everyone wears hoodies." Then the Master took a step forward and scratched his ear. "You don't seem very astonished by my not being dead." He looked disappointed, like the contents of a Christmas present had been revealed by a loudmouthed family member. Which, given that it _was_ Christmas...

"No..." The Doctor couldn't help backing away. "No, no, no, I was. Someone told me about it. I was pretty surprised then."

"So who told you?"

"Oh. An Ood."

Hearing this, the Master laughed, and gestured in front of his mouth. "Ood! Aren't they funny-looking?"

The Doctor couldn't think of anything to do but nod.

"Was it the same Ood who told you that you were going to die?"

Now the Doctor went pale. "How did you find out about...? Who told you...?"

"Well," the Master said, sitting down on a stack of wood planks, and folding his hands, "You did."

"I never."

"Then how do I know about it?" He patted the spot next to him, gesturing for the Doctor to sit down.

The Doctor didn't want to sit down. And _not_ next to him. "Oh, _smug_, lovely. You're always such a prat when you know something I don't."

"You _should_ know. It's not my fault you don't remember."

"Well, I don't. And before we go any further with this, just tell what you want. I know you were resurrected-"

"Since when does that mean I _want_ something? I didn't have a plan. Plans are annoying. I just preferred not to be dead."

"But..."

"And while we're on the subject of nothing in particular, have you got anything to eat? I'm _famished_."

Remembering the smell, the Doctor pointed behind him. "I saw a burger place over there."

"They've run out of stock."

"Really? It's not like business here would be that-"

"Well, I was hungry. And now they're out of stock." He stretched. "And I'm _still_ hungry."

The Doctor blinked. "That's just... gross... What's _happened_ to you?"

"Ah," said the Master, bouncing to his feet again. "About that. So there was this whole resurrection thing and it was going very nicely, but _someone_ decided to throw a bottle of poison into it all and now I'm a little bit... undead. I keep having these urges to eat people, but..." He actually seemed embarrassed. "I knew you were coming sometime or another, and I didn't think I wanted you to find me gnawing on someone's femur."

"Considerate of you."

"And I can't keep warm and every time I touch something metal I get static shock and I can pick up small cars with one hand. And sometimes my skin turns transparent and I haven't a clue why, because there isn't any _science_ behind it, and I can also fly, but it looks ridiculous so I don't think I'll demonstrate." He sat back down and folded his arms over his chest, making a face. "I don't _like_ it. I don't like any of it, but the hunger's the worst. All the time, every day, no matter what, no matter how recently or how much I've eaten... always hungry. Always looking for food. And I can't ever get enough, even when I've stuffed so much down my throat I think I'm going to be sick. Nothing... is... ever... enough..." The Master trailed off, and then looked at his clenched fists like he was ready to eat them, too.

"Well that all sounds rather metaphorical and quite unfortunate," said the Doctor, raising an eyebrow. "So you're not killing me because you... what, do you want me to fix all that? Make you better?"

"Yes!" cried the Master, leaping up for a second time and pointing at the Doctor. "Good! Yes! Perfect! Yes, that's _exactly_ what I would be wanting right now... Wonderful idea! You do that!" He stopped. "... _can_ you do that?"

"I'm not sure. Why would I, though?"

Now the Master sounded like he was pleading, but also offering something in exchange, which didn't make sense because was he said next was, "You could take the drums out of my head. You could make them go away..."

The Doctor lifted his head up sharply, shocked. "You'd let me?"

"I don't _want_ them."

"You should have said something before."

"I wasn't ready then. I thought I _needed_ that noise in my head but I _don't_. Not anymore. Because..." He looked around, then grinned. "Do you want to hear a secret?" the Master asked. "Come on. You know you're interested..."

The Doctor held up his hands, in a gesture of false defeat. "Oh, by all means, yes, tell me your secrets. I'm sure they're all _entirely_ factual and correct, judging by that evil smirk you're wearing."

Shaking his head and continuing to smile, the Master stepped even closer, tugged on the Doctor's shirt collar to bring ear to mouth, and then whispered, "_Dolphin._"

The Doctor pushed himself away and gave the Master a blank look. "Dolphin?" he said incredulously. "_Dolphin?_ What in Time is that supposed to-" _..._ _the password is dolphin... _

And then memories began to fall out of the sky and into the Doctor's brain and his eyes went wide...

_... teaching their offspring to put sponges over their noses... What the hell is going on? Why am I here again? Right in the middle of my bloody sentence..._

_... No! No, you've got the wrong Doctor! Well, not really, but... yes really! I've... I've got temporal extraterritoriality, me! No... _

_... you want to shoot him, you're going to have to shoot me first..._

_... these drums in my head? They don't tell me what to be, Doctor. I tell me what to be..._

_... what did you do, back there? You gave Lucy something..._

_... a surprise! You'll see..._

_... falling... _

"_No,_" he said, feeling dizzy. "No, you _can't _have... that was a _dream!_ It was a highly _unrealistic_ dream... It's a trick... It's a... psychic... wotsit..." He staggered back, as more and more of the memories fell. "I don't know you did that but it wasn't _real_..." But if it wasn't, then why was his scalp itching so _terribly?_ It was awful...

"I thought it was a dream, too, at first-"

"But you were _reset!_ Even if it was real, you couldn't have..."

The Master embraced the sky. "Surprise!"

"It's... _you?_ Really _you? That_ you? How?"

"The ring!" he exclaimed proudly, and proceeded to explain everything.

The resurrection ceremony was designed to bring someone back from the dead, so it needed two things: a mind and a body. The latter on its own would be nothing more than a clone, and the former would never be able to be useful without something with which to interact with the real world.

So the Cult of Saxon - "Can you believe it?" he laughed. "They thought I was just some crazy Prime Minister, and then made a cult about it! Didn't even know I wasn't human! A political cult..." - they needed DNA and they needed the signet ring. Because the ring was actually something much like a chameleon arch; it stored the thoughts and memories of its wearer in a kind of synaptic map, and after more than a month with it on, it was keyed to your mind, and would store it even if you took it off.

"And you _did_ take yours off," said the Doctor. "You gave it to... _ohhh_. Of _course_..."

"Horochron's Law," the Master agreed gleefully, rubbing his hands together (which sparked menacingly). He did love chaos. "The ring was small enough to survive a reset, but where it ended up was sure to be in the most conveniently disruptive place possible, which was...?"

"Inside the other ring! A Time Crash! Two versions of one object existing in the same timeline merge into one and after all those years, the ring they use in their ceremony..."

"Is contaminated! By me!"

"You outsmarted yourself," breathed the Doctor admiringly. "Beat yourself at your own game... You didn't just arrange for yourself to be resurrected, you had your mind uploaded from a never-was that was trapped in a shadow plane..."

"The umbra and penumbra. Secondary shadow plane instead of a fully erased timeline... there's still a remnant of the timeline in memories... both timelines, actually. I can remember both-"

"That is _good_..." the Doctor grinned. "That is _excellent_..."

"Yes, for you it probably is," the Master pointed out dryly. "Don't pretend like you're happy to see me simply out of the goodness of your heart."

"Well, I am! And... the me-not-dying bit, too. But not _instead of_. Seasoning, not substitute."

"And speaking of which, I'm _starving._ Lunch?"

The Doctor simply gave up. "Yes," he said, rubbing his eyes and pointing at the spot in the distance where the junkyard turned to road. "Walk," he ordered, and then followed behind.

"Not going to turn your back on me, then?"

"I wonder why?"

And they slowly vanished out of view, not quite side-by-side, but something close to it.

"Just to let you know, I am _not_ asking you out to lunch," the Master was saying. "I am going to get something to eat because I am _very_ hungry, and you are following me."

"Yes. That's definitely the bit we have to work on..."

"What, lunch dates?" A pause. "OW."

"No, the _hunger_, you imbecile."

"Ooh, you're rather defensive..."

"See, I knew you were going to say something stupid like that... I just _knew_ it. You can't keep your mouth shut, can you?"

"Can _you?_"

"But there's got to be _something_ left of the prophecy, though. An invasion. A world-ending catastrophe. _Something_. It's Christmas, for god's sake. There's _always_ something. And you _can't_ just go from the end of all time to... _fish and chips_. The fabric of causality would have an aneurysm."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm sure there'll still be something."

There was.

**The End.**


End file.
